


my heart beets for you

by canistakahari



Series: Absurdist Viral Posts [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 70s Dinner Party Recipes, Birthday, Comedy, Jell-O, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-18 20:02:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20197360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canistakahari/pseuds/canistakahari
Summary: Bucky makes Steve a birthday dessert. Steve really commits to enjoying it.





	my heart beets for you

**Author's Note:**

> this is the spiritual successor to [cursed fork](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16677310), in that i wrote it for [newsbypostcard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/newsbypostcard/pseuds/newsbypostcard) and it has the same unhinged energy. happy [redacted], pal <3 
> 
> oh, [this](https://twitter.com/TimWThornton/status/1160232603967995904) is the 70s jello salad recipe that bucky makes for steve

"I have a surprise for you," Bucky says after dinner, putting Steve on red alert with just six innocuous words. 

It’s been a nice day so far. The topic of Steve’s birthday has only been mentioned one (1) time, celebratory sentiment delivered and then dismissed, just how Steve likes it. 

Until now. 

With grave solemnity, Bucky sits him down at the kitchen table with his back to the fridge. Steve resists the urge to look over his shoulder and see what the hell Bucky has done. He doesn’t have to wait long, though. 

"Happy birthday," announces Bucky, unceremoniously _thunking_ a plate down in front of Steve. 

It jiggles. 

"Uh," says Steve. 

"It's a beet-root mold," says Bucky. "With a beet-leaf vinaigrette." He's talking without any inflection to his voice, which means Steve is struggling to divine an emotion from him that will indicate how Steve should respond. Laughter seems unacceptable, even though it bubbles up instantly and Steve has to choke it down. 

The thing on the table in front of him is almost impossible for his brain to parse. It's red. It's deeply, horribly red. It's also still wobbling gently from the force with which Bucky put it down. The center is hollow, like a bundt, which means there's plenty of room for the mess of foliage crammed inside. 

"Wow," says Steve weakly. "It's....beautiful."

"The red represents my burning passion for you." Bucky still sounds like an automaton. 

The urge to laugh is snuffed out by rising panic. "Thanks, Buck," Steve says, strangled. 

Bucky sits down across the table from him. For a second, they just stare at each other over the trembling mass of jelly. 

"Well?" says Bucky. His expression is totally vacant. It's the face he wears when he wants Steve to question every aspect of his reality. 

"Well," says Steve. He picks up the spoon Bucky helpfully provided for him. He's tempted to smack the surface with the back of it, so he does, watching it ripple. Then he digs the edge of the spoon in. Or he tries to, anyway. The jello actually resists being scooped for a tense moment before finally giving way, Steve digging up a scant mouthful. "Mmm," he murmurs, not sure which of them he’s trying to fool. 

"Go on," says Bucky ominously, staring at him. 

Steve puts the jello in his mouth. "Oh," he says, garbled. "Wow. That's a very unique flavour." With effort, he swallows. The taste is overwhelmingly gelatinous, with just a smack of cloying beet-sweetness to coat the tongue. It's not the worst thing he's ever eaten, but it's still lighting up the part of his brain that's strongly encouraging him to spit it out. 

Bucky holds his blank expression until Steve has determinedly taken three consecutive bites, composure cracking in one helpless, body-shaking laugh. He throws his head back, chair scraping across the floor. 

The world makes sense again. Steve’s sitting at the table, looking at Bucky, continuing to eat beet-flavored jello as Bucky’s hysteria increases in direct correlation to Steve’s commitment to his joke. 

"Stop!" shrieks Bucky, tears streaming down his cheeks. 

Steve, high on adrenaline and sheer pig-headed stubbornness, doubles down on his choices, grabbing a handful of vinegared beet greens and shoving them into his mouth. 

"I made you a cake," gasps Bucky, dropping his head to the table and muffling his laughter in the circle of his arms. 

"Gee, Buck," says Steve, chewing forcefully on the raw greens. "That’s real thoughtful of you. Two desserts? You’re a sweetheart."

Bucky makes a sound like he’s in pain, shoulders shaking. "It’s yellow cake," he wheezes. "With chocolate frosting."

"My favorite," says Steve, swallowing hard. "Though this jello sure is giving it a run for its money."

The delighted squeak Bucky lets out is worth the saccharine vegetable aftertaste in Steve’s mouth. Bucky cautiously raises his head, his eyes glossy with tears as he peers at Steve through the curtain of his hair. The second their eyes meet, Steve excavates another spoonful and deliberately takes a bite. "Please stop eating it," Bucky begs, giggling again.

"You made it for me," says Steve, shrugging. He raises another bite to his lips but Bucky lunges over the table and slaps the spoon directly out of his hand, sending a wad of jello sailing across the kitchen to slap wetly against the wall. 

"You win," Bucky says, seemingly not upset by this. "You win, Steve!"

"Oh," Steve says mildly, dabbing primly at his lips with a napkin. It comes away from his mouth stained pink. "Was this a competition?"

"You’re a nightmare," says Bucky, grabbing Steve by the collar and dragging him in for a firm kiss. He makes a face when they part, smacking his lips. "And you taste like unscented moisturizer."

"Wonder why that is," Steve says dryly. 

Bucky grins at him, leaning back into his chair, elbows propped on the edge of the table. "You want that cake now?"

"I feel like I earned it," says Steve. 

Bucky hums, getting up from the table and going to the fridge. He glances at Steve over his shoulder and narrows his eyes. "Don’t peek."

Steve obediently turns around, delicately sliding the jello mold out of the way. 

"Close your eyes," says Bucky. 

Stifling a sigh, Steve does. There’s a catch, here. There has to be a catch. 

"Okay," says Bucky. "Open ‘em."

Steve blinks. "Is that—"

"One hundred candles?" Bucky interrupts cheerfully, clicking on the brûlée torch. "Sure is, pal."

"That’s what I thought," says Steve, voice faint. 

"Happy birthday," Bucky sing-songs. 

Steve can’t help it. He laughs and laughs. He laughs so hard he chokes on his own spit. Bucky serenely torches the field of birthday candles, humming under his breath. 

The entire first layer of frosting is unsalvageable, a twisted mess of pastel wax. 

It’s still the best birthday cake he’s ever eaten, despite the undercurrent of beet gelatin that will not, for love or money, leave Steve’s mouth.


End file.
